


set my soul alight

by IceImagines



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Porn with Feelings, Table Sex, Vaginal Fingering, carmilla aka the resident nuisance of styria, how to convince your wife to come to bed? boobs, or more like feelings with porn, stone butch striga, striga REALLY fucking loves her wife okay, striga's really thick fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23359981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceImagines/pseuds/IceImagines
Summary: Striga won't take a break, and Morana gets lonely.
Relationships: Morana/Striga (Castlevania)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 141





	set my soul alight

**Author's Note:**

> i just think that this probably would have worked better at getting striga to come to bed is all i'm saying 
> 
> hello castlevania fandom i see you have a shortage of femslash and i am here to personally rectify that. if im the only damn person posting fics for this ship then so be it i binged the show for them and you can pry them out of my dead cold hands 
> 
> theres some subtle headcanons i have in here, like striga having stone butch leanings and morana being born in byzantine egypt and subsequently growing up during the arab conquest of it. i'm eventually gonna write a fic with actual plot that will go more in depth about that stuff but for now take this 
> 
> i listened to two things while writing this: kpop nightcore, and hurrian hymn no. 6, the oldest known melody. i'm not kidding. 
> 
> title is from supermassive black hole by muse
> 
> enjoy

"Striga." 

She could feel Morana's breath on the back of her neck where her lips were pressed to her pale skin. Striga didn't move, still leaning over the table with the giant map on it, but she tensed up just slightly, her eyes' trajectory over the map stopping. 

Morana's arms were wrapped around her, hands digging into the fabric of her tunic. Her nails stung on Striga's skin even through it, a familiar feeling that made her shiver slightly, memories of countless nights of those nails being dragged across her bare back flickering across the forefront of her mind. 

It had been over a century since she'd met Morana, not much less since they'd fallen in love. She knew her ins and outs, and she could feel the shift in her demeanor, the creeping change in the atmosphere in the room that she'd been ignoring ever since her wife had come in a couple of minutes ago. 

"I have to work," she said, her tone noticeably softer than it had been moments ago. Morana pressed her cool cheek against Striga's shoulder where her tunic had slipped off. 

"It can wait," she murmured. "You know how lonely I get without you there, my love..." 

Only Morana could make something sound so sincere and so seductive at the same time. It never failed to amaze Striga, not even after a hundred years with her. 

"Maybe _you_ should learn to wait," she teased, but her resolve was rapidly vanishing. She'd spent days brooding over these plans with barely any rest. The remains of nearly a dozen crushed pencils littered the table, and her eyes burned from staring at the map for hours, trying to figure out travel routes for her soldiers, supply lines, ambush spots. 

She was tired. And Morana was soft at her back, her familiar scent in Striga's nose, and that low, husky voice never failed to make her shiver. 

Maybe she should just take a break...

Morana pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Striga's neck, her fangs slightly pricking her skin.

"I don't want to wait anymore." Her voice had shifted to what could almost be called a purr. Striga let out a barely audible sigh. Hell knew she'd never been weak to that kind of thing before Morana.

She straightened up, turning around in Morana's arms and cupping her face in her hands. Morana blinked up at her with an expression somewhere between triumph and hunger, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. 

"I thought you wanted me to sleep?" Striga asked her quietly.

Morana leaned up to brush their mouths together, so lightly it could barely be called a kiss, but it only fueled the heat that had been pooling in the pit of Striga's stomach. 

"Later," she murmured against Striga's mouth. "We can sleep later." 

Striga tilted her head up and brought her in for a proper kiss. Morana opened her mouth almost instantly, impatient bordering on desperate. She tasted like blood; she must have had a drink before she'd come to see Striga. It sent a white hot bolt of arousal through her, making her groan lowly into the kiss. She felt Morana smirk against her lips. 

"My god, you always get what you want, don't you?" The words were half swallowed up by the kiss, as was Morana's answering laugh. 

"You know I do." 

She kissed Striga again, even harder this time, her hands going to her wife's front, deftly undoing her belt and tugging her shirt out of her pants. They started to slip underneath the fabric, mapping out the muscles of Striga's abdomen with her soft touch, but she didn't get much further. Striga turned them around, then grabbed Morana's waist and easily lifted her onto the table, negligently brushing the small figurines representing soldiers aside and sending them clattering to the ground. Morana gasped into the kiss. 

"Here? Looks like I'm not the only one who's been craving this." 

"Shut up," Striga murmured, taking off her gloves without looking and tossing them aside. "You had better be quiet, or you'll wake Carmilla and Lenore." 

The groan that followed wasn't one of pleasure so much as annoyance. "If they walk in on us again I swear I will-" 

Her sentence broke off with a hitch in her breath when Striga grabbed the hem of her long nightgown and started pulling it up, rougher than she would've had to be. Her mouth went to Morana's neck, kissing at the fragile skin while lifting the nightgown higher and higher, exposing long, brown legs and, finally, her white underwear, a dark stain clearly visible on the front. 

"Someone's eager." 

"What did you expect, you've been neglecting your wife's needs for weeks ever since Carmilla came up with that insane scheme- _oh..._ " 

Striga had pressed her hand to Morana's cunt, the heel of her palm pushing into her clit through the fabric. Morana arched her back, looping an arm around Striga's neck and grabbing a fistful of her mass of hair while she squirmed, little gasps of pleasure escaping her as Striga slowly moved her hand. 

"Neglecting your needs? Looks like I have something to make up for." 

She reached up, moved Morana's hair out of the way and easily snapped the thin strap holding her gown up that went around the back of her neck. Morana hissed, but her annoyance wasn't genuine, obvious in the way she struggled out of the sleeves of the gown, letting the top half slip down and pool around her waist along with her skirt. Striga pulled the ribbon from her hair, letting it tumble down her back. She loved Morana's hair down. It was a shame she so rarely got to see it.

With a last nip at her neck, dangerously close to her pulse point, Striga put her hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her down. Morana followed at once, laying back against the table and wrapping her legs around Striga's waist. She threw her arms above her head, stretching like a cat, and Striga forgot to breathe for just an instant.

Morana smiled her knowing smile, her eyes half lidded with desire. Striga leaned over her, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

"How do you do it?" She pressed a kiss to Morana's lips, brief, but lingering. 

"How do I do what, love?"

"Still make me feel like this every time, even after I've seen you this way almost every day for a century." 

Morana's gaze softened. "You told me yourself when we got married, remember?" She let out a gasp when Striga ducked her head lower, kissing and gently biting at the skin of her neck and collarbone, leaving bruises in her wake that would fade within minutes. 

"You told me you-" A low moan escaped her when Striga reached her breast and briefly took a nipple into her mouth. "You said you loved me, more than anything else on the face of the earth." 

"Keep talking." Striga kissed her way back up to Morana's mouth and leaned on her left arm while the other slipped down between Morana's thighs. "Please."

"More than you'd ever loved anyone..." Her eyes had drifted closed, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Striga pushed her hand inside her underwear, and watched closely as Morana's features twisted in pleasure when she slid her fingers over her swollen clit. 

"You said that you would never love again if we were ever separated- oh, Striga-"

Striga kissed her again, hard, as she increased her pace, swallowing up desperate moans and choked noises. Morana spread her legs further, both hands fisted in Striga's hair, a drop of sweat running down the elegant curve of her neck. She shook and squirmed underneath Striga, her heavy breathing loud next to her ear. 

"Inside," she begged, "please, please, I need you, I need you so bad." 

Every word went straight to Striga's core, the throbbing between her legs becoming almost unbearable, but she ignored it. Her gaze was locked onto Morana's as she slowly slid her fingers lower, spreading her puffy lips and just barely pressing the tip of a finger against her slick entrance. Morana rolled her hips into her touch, desperate, only to be denied. 

"Say it," Striga demanded. "Say what I told you on that day." 

Their foreheads were pressed together, gazes locked onto each other. 

"You promised you would be mine," Morana whispered, her lips brushing Striga's as she spoke. "Mine until the day someone would drive a stake through your heart. Forever if you could, _oh, oh-_ " 

One finger pushed into her, making her eyes roll back in her head. She was wet enough that there was barely any resistance, even though one of Striga's fingers was twice as thick as any ordinary woman's. 

"My god," Striga mused, "I _have_ been neglecting you, haven't I?" 

She crooked her finger a little, and Morana whimpered, bucking her hips. The expression on her face, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging half open, a flush just visible beneath her dark skin, was beautiful enough to take Striga's breath away. A part of her wanted to draw this out, just so that she could keep looking at Morana like this, desperate and panting and utterly stunning, but she knew her and the language of her body. Morana wouldn't be able to hold out for long right now, already on the brink of incoherence.

Well, there was always next time. 

Striga thrust her finger in and out a few times, enjoying the whimpers it brought forth from Morana's throat, before slipping a second inside. Her kiss just barely muffled Morana's cry, a full body shudder running through her, the legs wrapped around Striga's waist shaking. 

"I'm yours." 

The words were lost in their kiss. Morana's nails dug into Striga's scalp, on the brink of drawing blood. Striga pumped her wrist slowly, making her stretch around her fingers and relishing in every sound she drew from that pretty throat, every tremble that ran through that perfect body, the knowledge that this was _her_ doing. Nobody else got to see Morana like this. Nobody ever had in the seven hundred years that she'd been alive. 

This side of her, the passion, the desperation, the _devotion_ , was for Striga only. Only she got to look into Morana's eyes and see her stare back at her like that, open, vulnerable, and full of trust. 

That was the part that still left Striga dumbstruck sometimes. She was twice Morana's size, and she'd broken stronger vampires than her apart with her bare hands. Morana knew that. 

How on earth was it that she let Striga touch her like this despite it? How on earth was it that she _wanted_ it so much?

And, oh, how she wanted it. 

"More," she begged, gasped out between two kisses, breath ghosting over Striga's skin. Striga quickened her pace, the heel of her hand pressing against her clit with every thrust. Morana rolled her hips to meet her strokes, desperately clinging to her. Her skin, normally cool like that of all vampires, felt like it was burning up.

It was strange. They were in the castle's war room, on the table in the middle of the day, half undressed and impatient, and yet Striga felt her dead heart seize with every moan that spilled from Morana's lips, felt like no matter how close they were pressed together it wouldn't be enough. She kissed her again, feverish, Morana's tongue darting into her mouth, past her razor sharp fangs. Her walls fluttered around Striga's fingers, clenching down hard when she crooked them slightly to press into the spot on her front wall that Striga knew always drew the loudest sounds from her throat. 

"Yes, yes, right there-" 

Striga watched her unravel beneath her with every stroke of her hand, her hair fanned out across the table and Striga's carefully drawn maps, strands of it sticking to her forehead, damp with sweat. She was panting, eyes screwed shut, her brow furrowed, gasping out incoherent strings of words in different languages - Striga caught bits of the Greek she'd been raised speaking, the Arabic she'd had to learn later, and between it all, what sounded very much like her name, over and over. 

_Striga, Striga, Striga._

She buried her face in the side of Morana's neck, the movements of her hand slowing, but not stilling. Deep breaths. Morana's familiar scent. 

"I'm yours."

The faint light from the lightning jars on the wall danced on her skin. They moved together, pressed against one another, and Striga found herself wishing they weren't here but in their bedroom, and she wasn't still wearing her tunic and her goddamned shoulder armor. She wanted to be closer than this, wanted to see, feel all of Morana. 

She had missed this. Had it really been weeks?

"Love, I'm close," Morana breathed into her ear, a whimper in her voice. "Please, I need you." 

"You keep saying that," Striga murmured. She slid a third finger into her on the next thrust, earning a choked moan and a buck of her hips. 

"Saying... saying what?" She barely got the words across her tongue. Striga kissed her, deceptively gently.

"That you need me." 

She pushed her fingers in to the knuckles, all tight, slick heat, just skirting the limits of what she knew Morana could take, giving her too much and not enough at the same time. 

One of Morana's hands traveled down to the side of Striga's face, trembling, as Striga kept up her slow, deep thrusts. Morana's eyes opened a crack, fogged over with arousal.

"I _love_ you."

She'd heard it a million times before, had heard it every day for the past century, and yet the words still shook Striga to her core. She let out a shuddering breath, faltering in her movements for just an instant before Morana digging her heels into her back reminded her to finish what she'd started. She pumped her wrist faster, angling her thumb to rub circles over Morana's clit. 

The sound Morana let out when she threw her head back in pleasure, mouth falling open, was music. Pure and simple. 

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

It didn't take much longer until the rhythm of her hips faltered. She clenched down on Striga's fingers tight as a vice and her back arched off the table as she came, a noise somewhere between a wail and a groan swallowed up in their kiss. Striga brought her down gently with a few more shallow thrusts until a last shudder went through her body, and she settled down, body going slack.

"I'm yours," Striga whispered again. "I'm yours. I love you." 

Morana smiled up at her, exhausted, shaky, but real. A wide, slightly crooked smile that made her fangs glint in the dim light, put just one dimple in her left cheek. A smile that nobody else ever got to see.

"And I'm yours." She leaned up for one more kiss, soft and almost sweet. Striga returned it, matching her slow pace and feeling like she never wanted to get off of this table again, even when Morana's legs fell off her hips and she gently pulled her fingers out, making her grit her teeth against the overstimulation. 

Morana slowly pushed herself back up into a sitting position, and Striga rose up with her, negligently wiping her fingers on one of the plans on the table that she could tell were ruined with one look. Earlier, she would've been irritated by it, but she couldn't bring herself to care now. 

She helped Morana get her clothes somewhat back in order, although the nightgown wouldn't stay up anymore. 

"You didn't have to tear it." There wasn't even a trace of real annoyance in her voice. 

"You didn't seem to mind at the time." 

Morana smiled, looking very much like the cat that got the canary. "You're right. I don't mind." 

She paused, glancing up at Striga with a softer expression. "Do you want me to touch you, love?"

Striga shook her head. Not tonight. She rarely enjoyed receiving as much as she did giving, not even before her turning. Morana had never found her strange for it. 

The voice coming from the hallway on the right with no warning penetrated the quiet so sharply that it hurt Striga's ears.

"Can you not keep it down?"

Carmilla sounded pissed off. Striga sighed. This had had to happen, hadn't it. Things had been too perfect until a moment ago. 

When she turned her head, Carmilla was just storming into the room, wearing another nightgown, somewhat flimsier than Morana's, with a long, blood red robe over it, and not looking like she'd had a lot of sleep at all but was taking personal offense at the theoretical possibility being taken from her. Her eyes landed on Striga and Morana, Morana still sitting on the table with her skirt hitched up past her knees, her top slipping down precariously without the strap holding it up, both their hair in disarray and faces faintly flushed, and the wrinkled, smudged and torn war plans on the table. Striga watched Carmilla's expression shift from annoyance to disgust when she suddenly put two and two together. 

"Oh, for God's sake." 

Morana brushed some of her hair out of her face, regarding her with a look like she was dressed in full regalia and displeased with a clumsy servant.

"When will you learn to simply not investigate strange noises at certain hours of the day, Carmilla?" 

Carmilla pointed a finger at her. "When you stop being disgusting. I will never be able to sit at this table ever again." 

Striga shrugged, unbothered. "If you weren't so damn nosy, you would've never had to know." 

"Oh?! _What Carmilla doesn't know won't piss her off?_ That's the way we treat each other's property in this house now?"

Morana blinked at her indignantly. "First of all, Carmilla, this table belongs to all of us. Second of all, if it belonged to anyone individually, that person would be me, because nearly all of the furniture in the castle was paid for with my money." She yawned. "In other words, I will have as much sex on this table as I damn well please." 

"Fuck you." 

"My wife already took care of that, thank you very much." 

Striga barely bit back a laugh as Carmilla groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

"Why do I put up with you?" 

"Because otherwise you wouldn't have anyone to make your grand scheme actually work," Striga reminded her. She took another look on the map on the table over Morana's shoulder. Most of what she had drawn and written on it had been rendered unintelligible. 

She looked at Morana again and sighed. _Worth it._

"Well, make it work tomorrow. Some of us would like to spend the day sleeping." 

"Somehow I doubt that's what you were doing." Morana slid off the table, holding the top of her nightgown up with one hand, the other resting lightly on Striga's back. 

"At least I don't make my daytime activities everyone else's business."

"That's blatantly untrue." 

Striga rubbed at her forehead. The exhaustion from earlier was starting to catch back up with her. 

"Go back to your three snoring boys, Carmilla." 

Carmilla bristled. "What do you-" 

"My senses are still better than yours will ever be." 

Carmilla grumbled something under her breath, but she turned and started to leave the room.

"Try to be more subtle about it the next time you want to desecrate _our_ things," she snapped. Striga didn't grace that with a response. 

A few moments later, Carmilla's steps vanished in the distance. Striga turned back to Morana and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

"Let's actually go and get some sleep, hm?" 

Morana leaned into her touch, eyes closing briefly. "I'll remember for next time that this is the way to get you to come to bed," she murmured. Striga chuckled. 

"Who am I to object to that?" 

Morana went up on her tiptoes to press one more kiss to her lips. "I love you." 

Maybe it was embarrassing, the way the words seemed to ignite something warm deep in Striga's chest and make a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. But that didn't matter. 

"And I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter and tumblr under @icewuerfelchen, i scream about lesbians a lot and i also make some pretty okay art!


End file.
